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"Tha Poetic Son"



This cant be life... Its consumed with strife

Entering the judicial system from the use of a knife

Traveling the suburbs, yet with the hood, I am covered

Too black for some, too white for others

Relying only on the love from my "blood brothers"

No where to turn - To tired to mourn

Gazing into mirrors, wishing I was never born

Life is filled with what?

I see, nor having nothing - Im ready to combust

Dreading every day I wake, wishing this day...

My soul the lord will take

This cant be life... Its consumed with strife

January 2001 the Lord came to me, telling me to write

Chasing down a pen...

Releasing my thoughts, cries, and sins

Playing this game of life, knowing Im going to win

Since birth I've felt, destined to be remembered was my fate

Destined to release or be something great

Finally feeling it... Praying poetry must be it

So I write - Then I write some more

Feedback from the world, telling me, my words are they're cure

Loved by many - Embraced by all

Feeling this writing is destiny's long haul

I see it, its just about in my grasp

ATLAS

Publishers calling and e-mailing Tha Poetic Son

Im on my way, time to tell everyone

Reaching a fork in the road, once told the portion

Dont do this - I need this

Publishers are killing me slowly with their extortion

My blood sweat and tears - Yet they're reaping the fortunes

Worthless thoughts entering my head, unable to sort them

Back to pen and paper - That black ink from a bic pen

Releasing these worries, these thoughts from within

Hopefully self-publishing will suffice

This cant be life... Its consumed with strife



"Tha Poet"



This can't be life- No, this can't be right,

With a pen and a pad- I'm destined to write?

Poetry is my way out?- That's what it seems,

My way to touch people- I'm writing dreams.

But I'm like a deer in headlights- Stunned by the beams,

I'm stuck in this life- But my mind starts to bleed.

And the blood turns to ink- As I release it to this page,

I'm wiser to my years- Don't be confused by my age.

You hate me 'cuz you ain't me- That's how I see it,

You have a dream and leave it just that, a dream- But I try to be it.

This can't be life- No, this can't be right,

This is what I was given?- Rainy days and dark nights?

I don't wanna fight- I just wanna live,

Struggle is a given- But what the hell is this?

I'm trying to help people- But most won't listen,

When they find out it's poetry- You lose their attention.

I want to be remembered when I die- My name will be said,

I will live on through these words- Therefore I will never be dead.

Let It Live forever- And I shall die never,

People will see that Poetry was my greatest endeavor.

But now I am nothing- Another street side Poet,

But I'm destined for greatness- I can feel it in my veins flowing.

But this can't be life- No, this can't be right,

With a pen and a pad- I'm destined to write?